Craving Contractions

Call me crazy, but I’m looking forward to labor.

Obviously I am suffering from “mommy amnesia.” Conventional wisdom holds this lapse occurs to wipe out the painful memories of labor so that women will give into biological impulses to have more than one child. After all, my son’s birth four years ago was agonizing, a pitocin-fueled nightmare of contractions that became so crippling that I repeatedly told my husband I wanted to die. An epidural was out of the question due to a preexisting medical condition, so I felt every second. IT HURT SO MUCH.

But it wasn’t that bad, right?

The worst “only” lasted a few hours, plus 30 minutes of pushing. And then it was over, replaced by the sweetest baby and the most incredible high. We’re talking total peace, the most blissful bliss, the purest happiness. In my admittedly possibly compromised recollection, it kicked in the moment my son crowned and lasted for weeks. It was just the most awesome feeling.

I want that again. All of it: the pain, the suffering, and the ecstasy. The amazement that comes from finding out just what you and your body are capable of. The camaraderie of shared experience with every other mother in the entire world. I’ve wanted it ever since we decided to try for a second child. I am actually eager to experience giving birth all over again.

Not that it’s around the corner; I’m still months away. But I’m honestly looking forward to those horrible contractions. Show me this post when I’m six centimeters and I’m sure I’ll wish I could turn back the clock and punch the me who’s writing this in the face. I’m also sure all the mamas who’ve been through more than one delivery are snickering maniacally at me. But for now, I’m sticking with my delusions.